


Happy

by Thatmalu



Series: Human Pennywise Recovery Series [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pennywise (IT) is Defeated in the First Battle, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Happy Ending, Healing, Human Pennywise (IT), I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Please take tags as TW, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Self-Acceptance, Soft Richie Tozier, Trauma, love healing after trauma, this isn't kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatmalu/pseuds/Thatmalu
Summary: Eddie Kasprak was always filled with guilt. There were things Eddie felt guilty about that he couldn’t speak of. He kept them buried deep until the day they forced themselves to resurface his junior year of high school when he ran into Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter.A fic where love and self-acceptance allow Eddie to heal.**This is an older, reconstructed work**





	1. The first night...

**Author's Note:**

> **Update. After finishing what I would like to be the last bit of TWAYH and that series, I completely demolished this one and rebuilt it in a way I preferred. That is all, thanks for stopping by 
> 
> Hi, I'm a lurker that had these thoughts in my head and even though I respect the ending of the Novel and It: Chapter 2, but fuck shit.
> 
> This will be AU in which Pennywise is the persona of very human but very horrible Bob Gray. I used inspiration from the novel, the new movies, and some real life experiences both of myself and friends.
> 
> Please take TW and tags seriously. Like Dead Dove: Do not eat. This is a work about healing from past trauma, and those traumas are made clear early on.

1989

Neibolt had a stench like no other. Even the vibe drove dirty hobos and crackheads away, keeping it free from prying eyes. No one was too curious to take a look into that house, which radiated an evil aroma. No one was dumb enough to try to see what secrets it was hiding. No one until Georgie Denborough went missing. It was shortly after that the Loser’s Club loyally followed Bill to 29 Neibolt on that humid summer day, hoping to god Bill was wrong and all they were doing was investigating an abandoned, empty rotting corpse of a home.

Kids were going missing in Derry. A body part had been found. Then, one poor girl was found deceased under the bleachers of the baseball field, her face horribly bludgeoned in and the first evidence law enforcement found to suggest the children were suffering at the hands of a child molester. She had been found clothes torn and assaulted, abandoned by someone who was in a hurry and trying to get a fix when he could while police were still searching for him. This new information struck the town harshly, especially the Loser’s Club, who had been finding themselves answering phone calls from a perverted voice, would find things missing from their homes when they thought it was safe, find things missing from their rooms when they thought they could hide, all trying to explain to their parents that someone was _in their house_, but that was absurd and paranoid, their parents said. And no one took this news more than Bill Denborough, who knew this meant his brother had suffered like that girl did, but Bill was hopeful, and hopeful that through whatever pain and torment his brother had been through, a selfish part of him was hoping that sicko kept them alive for more than one go, because he had to see Georgie again. And this house was where they would be hidden, he just knew it.

“Some of us should stay out here,” Stanley said, eyeing the house with unease.

“L-let me guess,” Bill turned around on the steps, frustrated. “Y-y-you want to?”

Stanley looked slightly sheepish. “We need a lookout. And it would be weird if just one person sat out here. A few of us should stay out here in case someone comes, or have to go get help.” 

"Who wants to s-s-stay?” Bill asked, looking at his friends.

They all looked at each other in silence, until Mike reached down into the weeds, pulling some out of the ground. “We’ll draw for it. It’s only fair.”

They decided two would stay outside, two would stay in the foyer near the front door as a means to listen both in and out, and three would go deeper into the house; Bill refused to draw, determined to go in. The others each pulled a stem hesitantly, Bill casting Stanley a look of contempt when he grabbed the longest length, setting his fate to remain outside with Mike. Ben and Beverly looked at each other when they grabbed the medium stems for the indoor lookouts.

“You’re lucky we’re not measuring dicks,” said Richie, looking at his short stem.

“Shut up, Richie,” said Eddie, his voice shaking a little. “All right, Bill. We’re right behind you.”

They were just thirteen and had no idea what real danger they were in. The fear was there but it had not yet sunk deep enough, not until Eddie had been grabbed from behind, a large hand wrapping around his face over his mouth and nose. It pressed so tightly he couldn’t breathe, and whoever that hand belonged to kicked in the door Bill and Richie had just walked into, locking it shut. Eddie kicked and tried screaming through the hand to no avail. Bill and Richie pounded and called for help, but Bev and Ben did not run up in time to see where Eddie was dragged down to.

He went down some stairs he did not see when they had first came into the house, thrown down onto hard concrete. He whipped around on the floor and looked up to face the person who had brought him down and his mouth gapping in shock. Robert Gray stood before him, deranged looking and looking down at Eddie with a sadistic smile, drool literally spilling from his lips. Everyone in town knew Robert was strange, for sure, but this was an entirely new level of disgusting. Apparently, the local child entertainer, Pennywise, had taken a page from the John Wayne Gacy Jr. handbook. He was still in clown pants, sporting a wife beater, and had appeared to have been in the middle of cleaning the clown makeup from his face.

“I have been waiting so long,” he grunted, sending chills down Eddie’s spine. “So long only for something so delicious to come to me on its own.” He scanned Eddie’s face with malicious, darting eyes. “Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear.” He came towards Eddie, who came to his senses and tried to run for it, but Robert was quick and grabbed Eddie’s arm, whipping him back towards him. Eddie struggled and suddenly there was a hot, fiery pain shooting from his arm as Robert twisted it unnaturally with a loud SNAP. Eddie didn’t stop, using his good hand to hit Robert in the face over and over as hard as he could. Robert just smiled, grabbing his other wrist in his hand and pressed his boot against Eddie’s chest, pressing him back onto the concrete, and twisting his body back around so his face was against the ground.

Robert’s face was near his from behind and Eddie started gagging against his foul breathe, until he had to vomit. Robert was whispering, but Eddie’s mind started going over his medications, one at a time, listing all the milligrams and times and side effects. He kept his eyes shut, not trying to focus on how cold the ground was against the exposed parts of his front, the smell of puke to his side, the hot and wet breathe of Robert on his neck, Robert’s sweaty hand pressing Eddie’s head into the concrete, and piercing pains in places he did not imagine existed inside of him when Robert began assaulting him. He kept trying to go over his medications, but his thoughts were interrupted by a scream, and that screaming disturbed Eddie so much, because all he could feel when that scream pierced his ears was, _that boy is going to die_, but he kept trying to remember his medications because he couldn’t handle the fact that it was him who was screaming. 

Everything happened so slowly, yet all at once; Eddie was on the ground, then all the weight pressing him down was pushed off by someone’s foot, and Eddie felt someone’s hands under his arms, dragging him back. There were more screams now, Bev’s as she threw an iron poker into Robert’s face, Richie’s as he held Eddie’s face in his hands and was telling Eddie to _look at me_ and it’ll be OK and they were going to get out of there _now_. Eddie didn’t fully feel himself coming back to reality until there was breeze against his face and he realized he was on someone’s bike and even though the world felt over he was going _home_.

1992

Eddie Kaspbrak was always filled with guilt. He felt guilty when his father died and Eddie couldn’t be there, he just couldn’t sit in the hospital room with his father in a bed with tubes and cancer eating away at him. He felt guilty when he disobeyed his mother, who was so fixated on keeping Eddie safe and medicated and because everything she did was what was best for him. He felt guilty when she died of a heart attack when he was fifteen, because sometimes deep down he thought it would be so much better if she was just out of his life. He felt guilty when his father’s sister Judy moved to Derry from Bar Harbor, because she didn’t want Eddie to lose his mother and his friends all at once and wanted to take care of him. He felt guilty those few weeks after Neibolt, when Robert “Pennywise” Gray came out of hiding only to take Beverly, and even though those seven teenagers killed him and stopped him from ever harming anyone again, Eddie’s carelessness during their first trip to Neibolt left Robert alive long enough to get Beverly in the first place. There were things Eddie felt guilty about that he couldn’t speak of, things he had kept to himself and did not fully awaken in him until he had met Robert down in the Neibolt basement on the cold, hard floor. He did not speak of them, and he kept them buried until the day they forced themselves to surface on September the 11th in 1992, when Eddie was finishing his first week of his junior year at 16 years old, when he ran into Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter.

Eddie was leaving his first Friday of school late, having just finished a completely unwarranted detention for refusing to go in the communal, germ-infested shower after gym. His friends were home, and his aunt was working late, so he was by himself. He wasn’t very paranoid, but he had barely grown like his friends had, standing at five-foot-four and still a petite frame. And right now, a few questions were on his mind. Why the fuck was Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter here outside the high school? Had they not graduated? Were they prowling for young tail? Perhaps they had just been walking by and stopped to reminisce. Whatever they were originally there for, it was too late: one had spotted Eddie.

“Hey, Henry!” Patrick shouted. “It’s that little queer from the Losers Club!”

“Which one?” Henry asked, turning to look before a wicked smile flashed on his face. “Ohh, it’s Wheezy!”

Eddie was not in the mood. He never was, but he was alone and tired, and his body just wanted to fucking go home and shower and sleep. Today was not the day to be brave. He ran for it.

Eddie knew Richie’s house was closest and sprang in the opposite direction of his own home. He couldn’t hear the footsteps behind him because his heart was beating furiously in his ears. He was small and fast, but there was nothing but open road around him, and nowhere to hide or lose them. He rounded the corner of Richie’s street, his confidence building as he caught site of the house in his distance when –

BAM!

Something large and heavy tackled him from behind and his chin hit the pavement with an unforgivable smack. Eddie rolled over, swinging his leg to catch Bowers in the side of his ribs, causing him to roll off of Eddie. For a fleeting moment, Eddie thought he could run, but the second he got back on his feet, Patrick was there to clothesline him and throw him up against a nearby fence.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going faggot?” Patrick laughed, using his hand to pin Eddie against the fence by his neck.

“Get – the – fuck – off – “ Eddie attempted to kick, but Patrick stood on his feet, keeping him trapped.

“That’s not very nice,” Henry teased, pulling out his knife. “I think you should be grateful.”

Eddie couldn’t help but twist his face in confusion. “The fuck for?”

Patrick grinned when Henry leaned in close to Eddie’s face. “We know about you, girly boy. All about those things you did with Robert Gray.” Eddie froze. The name struck a chord, a cold chill going down his spine. Henry just chuckled. “Now, they say he did a lot of awful stuff to those kids before he killed them, right Patrick? But, he didn’t kill you, did he? I bet you didn’t really put up much of a fight.” Eddie started panicking now. It had been three years, three fucking years. Yet, there it was, Robert Gray’s trauma on him stuck like a tattoo. He felt a burning behind his eyes, but bit down hard on his lip; he would not let Henry see him cry.

“You know what else,” Henry continued, tracing his knife along Eddie’s cheeks. “I bet a little fairy like you knows how to give great head. Good enough head to spare your life from a child raping murderer. I mean, you’ve got a dick, right? So you must know what it likes. That must make you reeeeeeal good.”

“That’s awfully gay of you,” Eddie spat before he could help himself.

Henry’s face turned ugly, grabbing a fistful of Eddie’s hair from the top of his head. “I’m not the one who’s gonna have a dick jammed down his throat,” he said, pushing Patrick aside and shoving Eddie down to the ground on his knees. Before a second thought entered his mind he threw his forehead forward into Henry’s crotch, causing Henry to let go and step back. He scrambled to get up – but Patrick was too quick, grabbing him hard by the throat and covering his mouth so he couldn’t even scream.

“Did he just head butt you in the dick?” Patrick laughed, holding down a squirming Eddie.

“Shut the fuck up,” Henry spat. “There,” he said, pointing to a gap that led into a wooded area. “Bring the little fucker in there.”

Henry helped pick Eddie up, who as desperately trying to escape their grip but they were both basically twice his size and he didn’t stand a chance while they dragged him through bushes and branches until throwing him down onto a clearing, Patrick tossing Eddie’s backpack aside. He fell hard on his back, Henry leaning over him to press the knife into his neck. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that, Loser.”

Eddie grimaced at the cold blade against his Adams apple, but rage built under his skin. “Don’t forget I killed the last guy that raped me, asshole.”

He had hoped it would set something, anything off, reminding them about Robert Gray’s ultimate demise. But Henry grinned, leaning down so Patrick couldn’t hear, waving his father’s old knife in Eddie’s face. “So did I.” He grabbed Eddie by the collar, lifting him up to his face, raising his voice to normal volume again. “Your friends aren’t here to help you beat an old man this time. Don’t worry. I know a little queer like you is gonna love every second of it. Better turn over, fucker.” Eddie felt the knife graze his abdomen as Henry started removing his belt, and all his rage quickly subsided and turned into cold panic.

“Wait, wait, please,” Eddie begged, trying to push Henry off. “Henry, fuck, I’ll do anything, just don’t do that – I’ll – I’ll give you head,” he spit out. Henry paused to look at him. Eddie gulped, hating himself, mind racing. “Y-you said yourself I’m probably good. I’ll do it, just please don’t – don’t do that.”

“Oh my god, he’s actually begging to suck your dick,” Patrick was laughing.

“Well, by all means,” Henry smirked, unbuckling his own belt instead.

Eddie was more mortified than he thought possible. But he didn’t see any other alternative except for the painful, horrific thrusts that would possibly require him to go to a hospital. He couldn’t deal with that again. He shut his eyes tight, trying to think of porn he had snuck peaks of, thinking of what to do with his mouth to make this as quick as humanly possible. He knew if he wanted this to end quickly, he had to get good at this. He wanted to fucking die.

Suddenly, Henry’s hands were on the back of his head, thrusting it forward. He kept his eyes shut, his body tense and tried his best to prepare in the half second he had. He immediately gagged on the taste of sweat and body odor and remnants of urine, the hard tip reaching the back of his throat. He stopped himself from fighting it off as Henry thrust in and out several times.

“Don’t you fucking make me do all the work,” he grunted tapping the side of Eddie’s face with the knife. 

Whatever dignity Eddie had left in him shut down. He raised his hands, shaking, and brought them up to help grip one of Henry’s hips and the base of his shaft and – fuck he hated this. He tried desperately to imagine it was literally anyone else, someone he would actually want to do this to. The thought had come into his head on occasion in the shower, the one place he could think about other boys freely – one boy in particular always coming to mind. He thought about what he would do to Richie if this was him right now. It wasn’t a comforting thought; in fact, it almost made him feel worse, knowing deep down Richie would be mortified if he knew Eddie thought of him this way. But just for a moment, Eddie tried to imagine, letting his mouth try to do whatever it could to gauge a reaction from the person above him.

“Oh, fuck,” he heard Henry say, destroying the cloud of imagination in Eddie’s head. “Fuck me, he wasn’t kidding.”

Henry was enjoying it. Eddie wanted to throw up. And he almost did, as Henry gave no warning whatsoever except grabbing Eddie’s head to hold in place when he came, a sour and almost rotten tasting warm liquid ejaculating on the back of Eddie’s tongue. He coughed and gagged through it until Henry pulled out, and sputtered all over his front, gasping desperately.

He barely had time to register anything else before Patrick kicked his chest, shoving him flat on his back. He tried to get up again, but when he propped himself up on his elbows, Patrick kneeled his knees down on his hands holding him down, and had already had himself out in front of him, eager and dripping, grabbing Eddie by the hair atop his head. “Time to suck it up, buttercup.”

In less than a second he was in and out then Eddie felt a fist hit his face.

“Watch the fucking teeth!” Patrick spat, then shoved himself back in.

Eddie felt his nose bleeding, his face throbbing, his throat and jaw burning. The way Patrick was on him, forcing him to not quite sit up but unable to lean down was aching his neck and back, the knuckles in his hands burning under Patrick’s weight, pressed hard against the dirt. Then, it was over – too quickly, for he knew Patrick had not finished. Eddie’s skull hit the ground with a loud smack, as he coughed and gagged on the ground.

“Henry,” Patrick was saying. “This isn’t supposed to be fun for him. I think he’s enjoying this too much. Why don’t you help me hold him down?”

“_What?_” Eddie gasped, looking to Henry desperately, as though he could plead somehow. Henry looked annoyed, like he just wanted this to be over now, but he obliged Patrick and helped flip Eddie over and hold him in place on his knees, cupping his mouth and gripping his arm around Eddie’s chest to hold him up. And then suddenly Eddie was 13 again, pressed down into dirt instead of concrete, the taste of semen coating his throat instead of his own vomit, his screams muffled by Henry’s hands, tears and blood coming down his face as he clawed desperately at Henry to pry him off, the deep searing and unfortunately familiar pain inside him –

Eddie was probably lying there for 20 minutes after they abandoned him there in the clearing, sore and cold and filthy. He wanted to get up, take a shower, and forget any of this happened, but he knew he had to deal with the pain once he got up. And _fuck_ did it hurt like hell. This time, he didn’t have friends to help carry him to his mother. This time, he didn’t want to go to the hospital. This time, he had to walk alone. He didn’t go straight to Richie’s. He slowly dragged himself to Keene’s and stole some necessary but embarrassing supplies before walking back. Richie’s was still closer than his place, and his aunt would not be home until late; he didn’t want to go home alone.

“Eddie?” Mrs. Tozier gasped as she opened the door. Eddie’s chin was still scrapped, dry blood from Patrick’s fist into his nose. “Are you OK honey?”

“Hi Mrs. T,” Eddie said, smiling. “I’m fine, just fell taking a shortcut,” he lied. “Is Richie home?”

“Sure, honey,” she said, letting him in, still looking concerned. She was always a kind host to Eddie when he came over. They had some guests in the den, where Richie normally would be playing his new Super Nintendo, a gift he had received for complying with therapy, taking his ADHD medication and getting his grades up by the end of last school year. “Why don’t you take a quick shower? You can stay the night; I’ll give your aunt a call at work.”

“That would be really nice, thanks.” He smiled before slowly, _very slowly_, making his way up the stairs. He went straight into Richie’s bathroom, wanting to wash off as soon as possible. The shower was his favorite place, the place he could get clean. He thought about all the evidence he’d be cleaning off for the better. He didn’t want to go to the police. He knew what it was like, going through the forensic kits, the courts, telling his story over and over to strangers and having to relive it. Fuck that. Not this time. Henry literally got away with murder, and Eddie knew the odds of a much older teenager with evidence of being with a not-that-much-older man would not hold up as well as a serial child rapist case. Eddie would be doomed and probably, permanently deemed the town queer and tormented further. Rumors had certainly spread about what Robert could’ve done to the boy, and although it was truly awful, the rumors became malicious at Eddie’s expense, becoming more detailed and enriching for the gossip-prone sickos in this town. Ratting out Henry and Patrick would just be the final nail of his gay coffin.

He was so grateful for the warm water on his skin, desperately scrubbing every inch of himself, being gentle in certain sensitive areas. He wanted to wash his hair, but Richie used that two-in-one shampoo-conditioner that made his hair feel greasy. He reached out of the shower into his backpack on the toilet lid, taking out some Tylenol and the medicinal suppository’s he had stolen from Keene’s to help with the inner healing. He was grateful his overbearing mother wasn’t here traumatizing him even more by _insisting _she help. He shuddered remembering. He swallowed the Tylenol with some of the shower water. Suddenly, he jumped to a loud banging on the door.

“PENELOPE! I HAVE TO TAKE A LEAK, HURRY UP!”

“It’s me, Richie!” Eddie called back, his voice a little raspy. He turned the shower off. “I’m coming out. Wait, fuck.” He realized he didn’t have anything clean to change into. “Richie, can you bring me some clothes? CLEAN clothes?”

“What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom?”

“Richie, bring me clothes.” He heard Richie sigh while he started drying himself off. He was very glad he went to Keene’s first, already feeling some soothing relief, even if he knew the pain was going to be a bitch for a while. He dreaded needing to use the restroom, seriously considering not eating for a while.

The door opened by a crack briefly and he saw some wrinkly (but clean) clothes thrown to the floor quickly before closing again. “Hurry up, Eds, I seriously have to pee. If you were my sister I would’ve murdered you by now.”

It was weird to put on Richie’s too-big pajama pants without any underwear and thought best not to mention it to Richie. He threw on Richie’s Metallica shirt and gathered his dirty clothes in a pile with his backpack, hiding all of his Keene’s stuff in with them before opening the door.

Eddie’s heart felt like it did a back flip seeing Richie’s face, bright and grinning. Richie did not know he had just been through a nightmare and, possibly more mortifying, Richie did not know that Eddie partially got through it thinking about sucking him off. Eddie felt like he wanted to throw up again, but Richie playfully slapped his arm and moved into the bathroom. “About fucking time, Kaspbrak. You look about 8-years-old in my clothes.”

Eddie made a strange noise he supposed should’ve been a laugh or grunt of annoyance, but quickly ran into Richie’s room. The Super Nintendo was in there, hooked to the TV. He set his stuff down neatly, hoping nothing from his clothes would stain if he waited to wash them at home.

“Your parents let you keep that in here?” he asked Richie when he came in, pointing to the Super Nintendo.

“Weekends only. I have no school, they can have guests come over and get drunk on wine in the family room. Win-win. What the fuck happened to you?”

Eddie looked up and saw Richie eyeing his chin, clean but scrape not unnoticeable. Richie actually reached up and thumbed it lightly, causing Eddie’s heart to flutter.

“I thought you had detention, not kickboxing. Who cuffed your mug, gorgeous?”

“Bowers,” said Eddie simply, his heart dancing around the pet name.

“Bowers? What is he still doing around? You’d think after everything that happened, he’d get the fuck out of dodge.”

Eddie shrugged. It was really hard to look Richie in the eyes, so he looked back at the door. “Do your parents plan on getting drunk tonight?”

Richie snorted. “Probably. Dad has coworkers over. I give it about an hour before they’re all sloppy drunk. Sometimes he has me come down and do my ‘silly voices’ for them. He’s probably the only one that thinks they’re funny.”

Eddie clenched his jaw. He had certain pains that the Tylenol were not helping. “Think we can sneak some liquor up here without them noticing?”

He could see Richie’s Cheshire Cat grin in his peripherals, and he looked back to meet his eyes.

“Eds, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, it was a fucking rough one,” Eddie said roughly. “Go bring us some booze.”

After sneaking up something brown and cheap and hardly-missed and taking several too many shots, Richie insisted on watching The Thing. He was sitting up against the headboard, giddy and attentive in his drunkenness. Eddie was flat on his back, head slightly propped to see the screen he wasn’t paying attention to, feeling drained of anything that could remotely be called ‘good.’ He didn’t feel anything bad anymore, either, so at least there was that. He took another sip from the bottle between them, going down as easy as water on Eddie’s numb palette.

He had just heard a tiny bit of what Richie was saying. “…like, this is one of the best remakes in history, look at that fucking prosthetic chest rip open.”

Eddie grunted noncommittally. His brain started flickering images of basements and woods and trying to remind him how his body felt pressed down by another person. He drank again. He felt Richie shift, and he turned to see Richie had slid down, looking at him with concern, propped up on his elbow, his eyes glazed over a bit behind his glasses from his drinking.

“Eds, can you tell me what happened today? With Bowers?”

Eddie supposed his stomach would’ve plunged hearing that name, but it was solid with warm liquor filling his gut. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Bullshit,” said Richie. “Judes does not pay your therapist $200 an hour for you to decide you shouldn’t talk about your feelings anymore.”

_Queer. Fairy. Faggot._ The words ruminated in Eddie’s head like a virus. A _sickness_, as his mother would call it, what those _queer_ men had. _Those boys that like boys, it’s a sickness. They turn into those drooling maniacs like Robert Gray. You stay away from them, honey. They’re perverted and sick and they’ll try to turn you, honey. That’s how they get like that. It starts out queer and their perversions can’t be stopped and then they do awful things to children._

His lips were practically numb with drunkenness, but he felt them open and tell Richie a simplified version of what happened – only up until they brought him into the clearing of the woods. He couldn’t try to relive that right now. He only told Richie about the taunts he received on the fence.

Richie was quiet for a moment. His brain tried to articulate how to say “What happened to you at Neibolt doesn’t make you gay.” Instead, what he said was, “So what if you’re gay?”

Eddie blinked several times and turned to Richie. “What?”

Richie looked confused and shook his head. “I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean I think you’re gay, I don’t. I just mean… if you _were_ like, why the fuck do they have to fuck with you for?”

Eddie continued to stare at Richie. “Would you care – if I was gay?”

“No, I don’t, not – not to say I don’t care, I mean,” Richie corrected himself in a hurry. “You’re still… Eddie. You’d still be _my_ Eddie. Nothing is going to change that. I mean… I’m not gay, but like… _you’re _cute.” He grinned stupidly. “I’ve always thought you were cute. I’d totally date ya if you were into it, Eds,” he added with a wink.

Richie’s breath hitched as he watched as Eddie’s knuckles turned white, pressing against his small face. He stared until the moment when Eddie lowered his hands, but Eddie’s eyes were still fixated to a spot between his knees, his face tomato red and coated in shame. Richie held his breathe, when suddenly Eddie’s eyes met his own, doe-eyed and watery. “Richie, I _am_ gay.”

Richie felt Eddie’s gaze as he stupidly opened and closed his mouth several times, lost for words. Finally, he looked down and breathed out: “Oh.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed, confusion spreading on his face. “Oh?” He looked down and relaxed his limbs. Then, “Did you ever think I was?”

“N- no? Yes? I don’t know. You definitely never seemed that interested in girls.” Richie looked back up and inhaled sharply at the dark, strange look in Eddie’s face that he doesn’t think he’s ever noticed before.

“No. Definitely was never interested in girls.”

“Well,” Richie started again slowly, shifting his weight to his side a little, leaning on his arm and facing Eddie. All the nerves under his skin were suddenly on fire. Feelings he hadn’t had for years, feelings he had been trying to repress were surfacing, feelings he had had for Eddie, those desperate urges to _touch_ Eddie, the craving, the _wanting_. After those things – those horrible awful things had happened to Eddie years ago, Richie felt just wrong feeling like that and stuffed those feelings down, because who had he been kidding? Eddie… he would never…

Would he?

“Have you ever thought about… being with someone at school? Like… anyone we know? Do you – ” Richie gulped, not understanding why his throat was constricting so badly. “Do you ever think about me like that?”

Eddie’s expression didn’t change and he said quietly, “That’s not funny, Richie. That’s worse than a ‘your mom’ joke right now.”

“I’m not being funny.” Richie took a deep breath. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Neither of them knew who leaned forward first, nor would they ever be able to recall, but their lips clashed together like magnets and Eddie balled his fists into Richie’s shirt like he was trying to consume him, all sober restraint between them absent. Eddie threw his weight onto Richie and straddled him, his hands running through Richie’s hair like mad, Richie’s glasses being thrown _somewhere_, and Richie’s warm hands sliding up Eddie’s back.

Unable to articulate anything at all, all Richie could think was, _Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit HOLY SHIT_ because not only was he making out with Eddie but he fucking _liked it._

All Eddie could think was _He said he’s not gay He said he’s not gay He said he’s NOT GAY. _He was panicking, desperate to keep this going, worried that Richie was going to realize what the fuck was happening, desperate to keep Richie enjoying it.

Eddie didn’t know what he was doing, but he forced his tongue into Richie’s mouth and Richie _moaned _into him. Richie’s mouth didn’t taste like trash, oh no sir, it was a bit like menthol cigarettes but was tart and fruity and sweet from the stupid chapstick Richie used and Eddie always made fun of for being _cherry_.

“Fuck, where’d you learn to do that with your tongue?” Richie breathed before locking lips again. Then, with a sinking feeling Eddie thought of a way he could make Richie like this more, and slid his hand down to feel Richie’s hard erection beneath him. Richie moaned again, his hip jutting up at the touch.

“I can do that with my tongue somewhere else, you know,” Eddie said roughly into Richie’s ear, nibbling at Richie’s neck and slowly making his way down.

“Shit, Eddie are you sure – OH, okay!” Richie gasped as Eddie didn’t even hesitate once he was down at Richie’s groin and pulled him out to slide into his mouth. He thought about everything he did to Henry, everything he _wanted_ to do to Richie, to make Richie feel that good. He was going to take that horrible, awful thing that happened to him and turn it into something good and hope to god it convinced Richie that he liked this enough to stay with Eddie in the long run. This time he wasn’t sick to his stomach listening to the boy in his mouth moan with pleasure, feeling Richie slide his hands into his hair, so much gentler than he anticipated. Eddie allowed the new moment to cleanse the pallet of his memory.

“_EdsEdsEdsEds,”” _Richie was gasping, tapping Eddie rapidly but lightly. But Eddie kept going, raking his hand up Richie’s chest beneath his shirt, the other gripping Richie’s hip. He wasn’t sure if the alcohol helped or if it was genuinely Richie’s taste, but the bitter taste he expected never came, just slightly salty and warm and even a little bit sweet dripping down his throat as Richie made a strangled noise of pleasure and tensed beneath him.

Eddie rolled and dropped to Richie’s side, wiping his mouth of his spit and whatever else. He momentarily felt pleased with himself, but then, as though the numbness in his brain was slowly dissipating, a desperate aching pain seeped back.

“Holy shit,” Richie panted, wiping his brow. He felt more sober now, finding his glasses and cramming them on his face, turning to see Eddie panting beside him, eyes closed and face concentrated on god knows what. God, he looked beautiful though; face flushed, lips wet, hair disarray. Richie grinned, wanting to take his mind off whatever he was anxious about, rolling over and sliding his hand onto Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie felt Richie’s hand, but his brain seized thinking of Patrick’s hand gripping him, throwing his hands up and smacking Richie hard in the throat, screaming “Don’t fucking touch me!” as he jumped up, backing into the headboard of the bed.

Richie was grabbing his throat, wincing. “Dude, what the _fuck?”_ He opened his eyes and saw Eddie balled up into the corner of the bed between the headboard and wall. “Eddie, what the hell just happened?”

_Oh fuck Oh fuck Oh fuck. “_Richie, I’m sorry,” he squeaked, voice breaking like a child’s, tears forming in his eyes. It was too much. It was ruined. _He_ was fucking ruined. He fucking broke down – tears and snot and drool all coming quickly from his desperate crying, he told Richie everything about the woods. He kept his face in his knees, unable to look Richie in the eye.

“This happened right before you came over?” Richie whispered.

“I couldn’t go to the cops,” Eddie gasped into his hands. “I can’t go through all that again, Richie. I can’t deal with everyone in Derry knowing what happened, I… How am I ever going to be with someone, with you? After all this happening? How can I let anyone touch me without feeling… without feeling…” He shook his head rapidly. “It’s sick! It’s disgusting, that I would ever want that, to feel like that, how can I possibly want to touch another man again after what he – what they…” He couldn’t finish. He sobbed into his knees more, Richie completely still beside him.

Eddie’s fears were fully realized in Richie’s mind, and his heart absolutely wrenched listening to him and there was not anything he could say, nothing out of his trash mouth that would be comforting right now. He scooted closer to Eddie, not quite touching, waiting for what was probably the most important thing Eddie needed right now: consent to be touched. And with that small movement, Eddie heavily leaned over into Richie completely as Richie wrapped his long arms around him. Richie could feel the moisture already through his shirt from Eddie’s tears from crying, but he didn’t care, his own tears starting to drip down his face. He held on to Eddie firmly, but lovingly, moving his hand up and down his back as he cried into him.

“Eds,” Richie’s voice came softly after a while. “Hey… come with me for a minute?”

Eddie sniffed, wiping his face on the sleeve of Richie’s shirt. He silently followed Richie out, seeing that Richie had reached his arm out. He took Richie’s hand and followed him to the bathroom. Richie turned the shower on and slowly lowered his hands down to the hem of the shirt Eddie was wearing. Eddie nodded. Richie took the shirt off. Richie hesitated to leave, but Eddie didn’t want him to. He took Richie’s shirt off to let him know he didn’t mind if Richie followed him in. Of course, Richie knew where Eddie’s favorite place was; the place he got clean.

Eddie noticed Richie kept his eyes firmly on his own entirely as they undressed and went into the shower. Richie helped clean his face off, removing all traces of his crying. Eddie was looking at all the details of Richie’s face he admired so much; how angular it all was, his cheek bones, the jaw line, his prominent Adams apple. He looked so strangely serious right now, an odd expression Eddie never saw often, but was sure he had seen the most out of everyone Richie knew. Suddenly, he smelled something fruity.

“I know you hate my shampoo,” Richie said, putting his sister’s shampoo back, lathering the liquid in his hands. “I doubt you used it earlier.”

Eddie shook his head. “Won’t your sister be annoyed?”

“Who cares?” Richie said, running his hands through Eddie’s hair. Fuck, it felt good. The intimacy of it, Richie cleaning him gently, was filling Eddie with warmth in places that the heat of the water could not reach, but his heart ached.

“Richie,” he said softly, staring directly back into Richie’s eyes. “You’re not gay.” It wasn’t a question.

Richie slowly leaned Eddie’s head back, careful to rinse the shampoo out without tilting Eddie’s face under the running water. His thumb grazed Eddie’s cheek. “No. But I love _you_, Eds. Whatever you are doesn’t matter_._”

Eddie’s heart swelled. “God, you’re so fucking weird.” He smiled. “I love you, too, Rich.” Saying it didn’t even feel alien; they had loved each other for so long it wasn’t even foreign to say aloud. “You don’t think I’m disgusting?”

Richie thought about attempting to bring humor back but Eddie continued looking concerned. Richie sighed, leaned down and pressed his hand on Eddie’s head gently, and said with all sincerity, “Never, Eds.”

Richie kissed him firm but gently and despite what romance movies had told them otherwise, Eddie felt his nerves calm down, the butterflies in his tummy finally relaxing. Eddie leaned into him, his cheek on Richie’s wet, warm shoulder. He could feel how cautious Richie was being with his touch, so he gripped him tightly around the middle to let him know it was OK.

They soon both lay together on their sides in Richie’s bed, legs tangled and hands held, hair wet and tangled on the pillows. Richie reached his other hand up to caress Eddie’s face.

“Do you feel OK… after what we did?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said truthfully. “I do. I just wanted you to like it.”

Richie pursed his lips. “If I knew what had happened today…”

“Richie, it’s OK. It was almost therapeutic.”

Richie frowned. “Is that why you did it?”

“I wanted to do it, Rich,” Eddie assured him firmly. “I’ve wanted to do this for like… a long time.” Eddie scooted closer, giving Richie a soft but generous kiss. “You think you’re going to be OK with this? All the hand holding, cuddling, and gross boyfriend stuff? It’s not very us.”

Richie chuckled. “Bullshit. We’ve been playing footsy in the clubhouse hammock for years. I’ve always been yours, Eds, before we even realized it.” His expression softened again, caressing Eddie’s face. “We’ll take things slow, OK? We have all the time in the world. You probably need to deal with what happened first. This isn’t exactly the way I wanted to start doing this… Not that we shouldn’t, but I’m not going to push you. If you don’t tell the cops, you should at least tell your therapist or someone. Maybe your aunt.” His eyes momentarily brightened as he squeezed Eddie’s hand, and Eddie looked at him and could tell he was holding tears back. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, Eds. But you don’t have to do anything for me. Just promise you’ll talk to me about anything you’re going through and I’ll be here for you; I promise.”

Eddie could not believe that this night had just happened. He was in shock. He was going to be in shock come morning, when Richie kissed him on the cheek and made sure he was OK before making him breakfast. He was going to be in shock when the Losers completely accepted the new development in their relationship. He was going to be in shock every time Richie was soft and loving and kissed him. Several hours ago he was a wreck, and he was still a wreck, and he would take time to heal, but now he was in the warm, pale, lanky arms of Richie Tozier, who was pulling him into his chest because he _loved_ him.

Morning sunlight started creeping into Richie’s bedroom while he slept quietly, a leg sticking out from the covers, his limbs starfished while he lay on his stomach, one of his arms draped over Eddie’s chest. Eddie was still, staring at the ceiling feeling… well, weird. His childhood friendship with Bill was normal and easy until Richie made his way into their lives, giving Eddie undetectable feelings in his gut and driving him fucking crazy. Puberty made it far worse, creating a pattern of shame and discomfort when Eddie would quietly touch himself in the shower and Richie’s dumb face would pop into his mind. He absolutely hated himself for it, sometimes taking it out on Richie the next day by getting infuriated over the most mundane things, only to end up curled up with him in the clubhouse hammock with secret pleasure burning in his body. It sure didn’t help that just about any time he jerked off after what happened to him in Neibolt he would end up crying shamefully, and he couldn’t just stop because he was a teenager full of hormones and he just couldn’t help himself, and it was the only time he thought he’d ever be able to feel any joy from another guy, even if it was in his head.

Now Eddie was in Richie’s bed, like a million times before except Eddie was much too aware of the fact that Richie and he had _kissed _last night and he had seen Eddie at some of his most vulnerable. Eddie was ruminating over every detail and wondering if the high over their experience would wear off of Richie when he woke up, if the moments they shared together were a fluke and Richie would make a dumb joke about it, comfort him over his trauma, and Eddie would go back to his suppressed little ball of anger and crying in the shower when he masturbated. The thought caused a sharp pang in his heart and he turned his head to look over at Richie; this didn’t help. Eddie breathed a heavy sigh, reaching over to touch Richie’s face which was just so fucking cute and Eddie hated that he thought that. The second his finger tips reached Richie’s cheeks, Richie’s mouth spread into a wide smile, pulling his arm off Eddie’s chest and up to cup the back of Eddie’s hand with his own, bringing it up to his lips to press a quick kiss. Eddie’s heart practically plunged down into his stomach.

“Morning, sunshine,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s palm, his eyes still closed, rolling over and stretching his limbs out like a cat. Eddie stared at him, not knowing how he should begin this conversation. Richie opened his eyes, looked over and smiled.

“Wassup?” Eddie said awkwardly. He had gone through something intense yesterday. It was a horrible event that he had to address delicately. But Eddie was also a teenage boy and he was in love and he was incredibly stupid.

Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie to grip him while pressing his hand into Richie’s chest and pressing Richie back down into the bed. He mimicked their position last night, straddling Richie again while kissing him fiercely, eager to keep Richie’s mind locked on all things good that could come of this.

Neither of them could have been sure how long they were entangled. It could have been a minute or an hour. But for a 16-year-old with repressed sexuality, with little to no experience with his feelings, finally realizing his desires, it was definitely closer to a minute when it happened. Richie had felt Eddie against his thigh, hard as a rock. He shifted ever so slightly underneath Eddie, his own boner pressed against him in an uncomfortable angle under his waistband. Just as Eddie leaned his head down to kiss Richie’s neck, Richie reached his hand down and tucked it under Eddie to adjust himself in his own pants. As he did so, he rubbed hard against Eddie’s erection and he flinched as Eddie was suddenly biting into his neck with a low hiss. Richie froze, taking the moment in as Eddie relaxed onto him, realizing what had happened.

“Fuck. Sorry, Eds.”

Eddie didn’t move besides his own breathing, but Richie could feel how tense he was on him. Richie wasn’t embarrassed, but he knew better than to say anything stupid and make Eddie feel worse about the fact that his best friend just made him come in his pants so easily. Richie slowly pulled his hand out and tapped Eddie on his shoulder. He felt Eddie pick up his head against his neck and lift himself up and off the bed, not meeting Richie’s eyes.

“I wanna take a shower again...” Eddie mumbled sheepishly.

Richie got up and led Eddie to the bathroom, Eddie’s hand sheepishly rubbing his arm, looking down at his feet, his gait awkward.

Richie turned the shower on, and turned to Eddie. “I’ll get you a towel,” he added, making his way out before Eddie could take his clothes off.

Richie opened the hallway pantry, being careful to do so slowly, as it was next to his parents’ bedroom and it was still awfully early for a Saturday. Richie grabbed a clean white towel from the shelf when he realized he still had a boner. It was getting uncomfortable.

Eddie was crying. Not a gentle, tears streaming down his cheeks slowly in a rom-com kind of cry. He was sobbing and shaking, his hands against the tile of the shower, hot water running down his back. He had barely started soaping himself when he lost control. He was doing so as quietly as he could, repeatedly wiping the snot and drool and tears off his face, feeling ashamed and dirty. He couldn’t even look down at himself. He knew Richie must’ve felt truly disgusted in what he had done with him now. Eddie started smacking his forehead, images of Robert and Henry and Richie all racing interchangeably in his mind. Was this how it would be, then? First, he’s brutally raped at 13 by a psychotic maniac, attacked again by his childhood bullies, and then his first consensual experience ends with someone completely disgusted by him? Not only that, but it was Richie. How could he look at him the same way again?

It was a few moments before Eddie heard it. His own sobbing quieted down, he heard a strange noise coming from somewhere near him. Breathing. Did Richie bring him a towel and stick around?

“Uh, Rich?” he croaked, clearing his throat of all traces of crying.

“Mmm,” was the response, but it sounded almost winded. Eddie was afraid to look behind the curtain, but then Richie called back again in a whisper, “Say my name again, but slower.”

Eddie was bewildered. Was Richie doing what he thought he was doing, right there in the bathroom? Eddie had no idea what to think of this. He had just been distraught a second ago, but for some reason his lips twitched up into a small smile. With as much sultry as he could muster he whispered his name again. “_Richie_.” He giggled a little and suddenly there was a quiet strangled noise. Eddie waited, rinsing whatever residue of soap was left on his thighs before turning the water off. The toilet flushed.

Eddie peaked behind the curtain to find Richie, eyes politely closed, holding the towel open for Eddie. Eddie reached for it, still perplexed as to what just happened, wrapping he towel around him. He couldn’t talk around it. “Did you just jerk off in your toilet while I showered?”

Richie shrugged. “Eds, you left me hanging after running off. Someone had to finish the job. You did such a good job getting me started.” And there it was, his stupid Richie grin. Relief flooded through Eddie, but he still felt some deep embarrassment, like this could be all some big joke to Richie. Eddie grabbed his dirty clothes and followed Richie back to his room, annoyed that he ruined his only pajamas that he kept at Richie’s. God knows when Richie did his laundry last.

Eddie was about to make a remark about this, when he turned and saw Richie closing the door with a soft look on his face, his eyes on Eddie’s chest. He looked up at him and pointed at the bed. “You wanna lie down?” Eddie wanted to make a comment about the fact he was still only wearing a towel and was soaking wet, but something about Richie’s voice made him want to just listen. He walked over and lay down, propping himself slightly with a pillow. Just as he was about to scoot over, Richie stopped him. “Stay there. You should be on the edge.”

“Uh, why?” Eddie asked, weirded out by Richie crawling over his wet and basically naked body, taking Eddie’s usual spot nearest the wall, staying on his side to face Eddie.

“In case… you want to get away from me. Do you want to try that again?”

Eddie felt his organs plummet into the bottom of his gut. “Y-yes.”

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but Richie’s warm hand was gentle, running smoothly across his chest, making traces of water streaks with his fingers. Eddie licked his lips to bring some moisture back, his breath uneven like a rattle.

“How do you want me to touch you?”

“Is this a joke?” Eddie asked quietly.

Richie’s expression dropped, frustration taking its place. “Do you think I’d be that much of a dick to lead you on after you had to courage to come out to me like that? After all we’ve been through? After all you’ve been through? Do you really think I’d just make out with you and touch you for shits and giggles?”

Eddie’s lips pursed in embarrassment. But then he said quietly, “You don’t know what it’s been like… I’d hate myself when I would get a hard-on, worrying that my best friend would hate me if he… if you knew… if you knew how I had felt…” He looked away. “I was coming to terms with being alone for eternity. Living in Derry, being r-raped, and feeling like I was just sick. Even Aunt Judy, as big a hippie as she is, I don’t know if I could even tell her. I just thought I’d die alone or maybe when you guys left Derry and forgot about me and I had no one else I could just make it easier and just run into traffic.”

Richie’s hand took Eddie’s chin firmly and forced him to look back at him. “Don’t you dare fucking say that again Eddie Kaspbrak. I am not going to let that happen.” He softened his expression and released Eddie’s chin, choosing now to trace his jaw line lightly. “We will never forget about you. I will _always_ be by your side, Eds. Even before I realized I wanted our relationship to be like this, you were always my everything. Is that OK? That I want to be with you like this?”

Eddie studied Richie’s uncommonly serious facial expression. “It’s more than OK, ‘Chee. I want… I want all that gross boyfriend stuff. I want the dates; I want the hand holding, and fucking cuddling on movie nights. But I want my best friend; I want everything we already have. I want you to be my everything, too.”

Richie smiled, stroking Eddie’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Can I kiss you, Eds?” He was still so cautious to make sure consent was granted.

Eddie’s chest was so constricted he wasn’t sure how he was still breathing. But it wasn’t his inhaler that he wanted pressed to his lips. Eddie wordlessly pulled Richie down into him. His heart burst into confetti and it sprinkled over all his negative thoughts, burying them under pure color and joy. He dipped his tongue into Richie’s open mouth, only slightly offended by the morning breath. He was getting confident and hungry; mainly, because he was getting horny.

Richie was there, gentle, and Eddie grasped the back of his head, pulling him close enough so that all he could inhale was Richie. Richie did not reciprocate so hungrily, but placed his hand on Eddie’s cheek to break away for a moment. Richie knew why Eddie was so desperate, afraid that these moments would be stolen away from him any instant by some higher power that looked down on this. But Richie knew better. “Eddie,” he said. “It’s OK. Take it slow. We have all the time in the world. I’m yours.” He meant it with all his heart. He kissed Eddie again, feeling how eager Eddie wanted to kiss him back, but Eddie was slowly relaxing and melted, and Richie melted right back into him, wrapping his long arm around Eddie and bringing him close. He caressed Eddie down his side, placing his hand on his hip when he felt the tip of Eddie’s erection against his arm. Those hormonal teenagers may come fast sometimes, but they come _often_. Richie grinned into Eddie’s mouth, enjoying how much Eddie was enjoying it, and Eddie pulled away for a brief moment to smile back and kiss him again. Eddie eagerly removed Richie’s shirt and he pressed himself against Eddie’s chest, straddling him much like Eddie did before. His legs were much longer, so he stretched them out behind him. He traced his finger down to the fabric of the towel still covering Eddie. “Can I?” Eddie looked down, nervous, before looking up and nodding. Richie smiled. Eddie smiled back. Richie wanted more than anything for Eddie to feel how loved he was right now, and that Richie would never do anything he didn’t want. Plus, Richie had jerked himself off a million times; it wouldn’t be that much different than touching him; he was damn good at that. Richie kissed his forehead. “I just need to grab lotion.”

Eddie gripped Richie’s arms like a vice, pulling Richie’s hands away from his body, eyes wide in a panic. “_Why?_”

Richie blinked, confused and alarmed. “So I can… you know,” he gestured his head down.

“I’m not doing that!” Eddie practically shouted, shaking his head, not loosening his grip.

“Shhh! I’m sorry, you said it was OK! I won’t touch you!” Richie tried his best to calm Eddie down, Eddie’s chest heaving.

“I thought you meant for, like, a handjob or something,” Eddie said.

Now Richie was really confused. “That’s what I was getting the lotion for.”

Eddie’s grip loosened, but he twisted his face in confusion. “Why do you need lotion? Do you use that to jerk off? That shits gonna get in your dick and cause a UTI, Richie.”

Richie shook his head at Eddie’s hypochondria. “I thought you’d be grossed out if I used my spit. How else do you jerk off?”

“I just move my foreskin up and down.” Oh. Not exactly like jerking himself off. The realization hit them both simultaneously. “You’re circumcised, aren’t you?” Eddie asked.

“Yeeeeup.” This was awkward. But Richie was determined not to ruin the mood. “But, that sounds pretty easy. Just… up and down?”

Eddie looked so uncomfortable. This wasn’t what Richie wanted at all. Richie tried smiling, touching Eddie’s face gently. “Eds, it’s OK. I don’t care. I just want you to enjoy it. We don’t have to do anything if we don’t want. But if you do, just… show me.” He took Eddie’s hand and placed his own in it, giving Eddie the power to guide him if he pleased. Eddie looked at their hands together, nodding to a question in his head. He was going to do this. And fuck did it feel good. The towel aside, he guided Richie’s hand up and down and he still couldn’t believe anything about his night was happening. What on earth was Richie thinking? He looked up and Richie was looking right back at him, smiling because Eddie just looked so incredibly pleased. Eddie took his hand away, letting Richie do the rest, and grabbed the nap of Richie’s neck, looking deep into his dark brown eyes. It was a strange sensation for Richie, and certainly unfamiliar, but it wasn’t uncomfortable and he was right about it being easy. The sheath acted as its own lubricant; Richie almost felt a little jealous.

Eddie was going to come again, his breath quickening, little noises aching to escape his throat. Richie saw Eddie’s hesitation and fear, but was quick to assure him. “It’s OK,” he said again, eagerly wanting to see Eddie’s face this time, wanting him to know that what they were doing wasn’t wrong or disgusting. “Does it feel good?” Eddie nodded, but seemed unable to speak. His lips parted slightly to let his breath exhale as quickly as possible. He was getting close and Richie was looking at him like he was the best thing in the world, rambling about how much he loved Eddie and how fucking beautiful he thought he looked. Then, Eddie died a million tiny deaths; a moan escaped him as his fists balled into Richie’s hair, his back arching up as he came. He saw Richie’s raise an eyebrow of happy surprise, slowing down his movements until he stopped. Richie was expecting more of a mess, but realized that Eddie had already came not so long ago; he was pretty pleased with himself as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against Eddie’s neck.

“Th-thanks, Rich.”

“You’re welcome,” Richie chuckled, pulling himself up to see Eddie crying softly.

“I’m OK,” Eddie said immediately. “Just… shock-happy. Promise.”

They stayed in bed a little longer, just holding each other and staring. It was weirdly… comfortable. Just staring into Richie’s eyes, that were so dark they were almost black but still shined so much light and kindness from them. It was weird for Richie to stay quiet, but Eddie was grateful he was allowing him to digest everything that had happened. His body drifted off to sleep just a little bit more and he allowed it to rest the way it definitely needed to. Despite knowing he was going to be dealing with so much more now, he slept deliriously happy.


	2. ...and for the rest of their lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter spanning over Eddie and Richie's relationship after those two idiots finally realize they love each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This piece has been demolished and put back together with the snippets from the other work in the series that I decided I preferred in one place. I like this bit way better and didn't want to leave it the way it was.

1993

The Loser’s club had no secrets between each other, and they had a bond that meant sometimes speaking wasn’t necessary to know the truth. Not a word was spoken by Eddie or Richie about what happened between them, but the Loser’s accepted it without pause or wonder. Stanley continued his knowing eye rolls when they bickered like an old married couple, but sometimes instead of arguing all day, Richie would just sling his arm around Eddie and place a finger on his lips and say something like, “Honey buns, we can settle this later in bed,” and make Stanley groan and put his hands over his ears. Making people uncomfortable was Richie’s forte, and being overly lovey-dovey with Eddie in public halted a lot of arguments, even if they were only playfully disgusted by the display. Eddie learned that loving Richie so openly and freely was like breathing. Unfortunately, Eddie had asthma; breathing could be a bitch.

Eddie didn’t plan things very well. He spent a lot of time wondering how he was going to come out to his aunt before making the final decision one day after Richie had come over for dinner and shouted it at her from the living room.

“AUNT JUDY I’M GAY!”

Richie’s eyes went wide as saucers, as did Eddie’s, who seemed completely shocked at his own actions. “I’m sorry I shouted,” he said apologetically, still not looking at her. He kept looking at Richie, whose eyes followed Judy until she stood next to them and gently placed a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder, finally forcing him to look back at her. Her expression was soft and he felt himself relax a little.

“Eddie,” she said. “I love you more than anything. I know nothing can erase the terrible things you’ve been through, but I’m so happy that you can start to become at peace with just a bit of who you are.” She gently touched Eddie’s cheeks; his eyes started to water. “No matter how cruel the world is out there to you, I’m always going to be your safe space, OK? I just want you to be happy.”

“You mean that?” Eddie croaked, happy tears falling down his cheek onto her hand.

“Of course I do. Also,” she sighed, eyes darting to Richie. “Our walls aren’t _that_ thin. You could’ve been more discrete.”

Richie practically guffawed, and Eddie felt his cheeks flush, pushing her hand away in embarrassment. “Oh my god, Judy…”

Despite his embarrassed groan, she leaned down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I think you deserve a glass of wine. It’s a coming out day exclusive, so no ideas!”

She left to fetch a bottle of wine, having herself finished the one Richie had brought for her. Eddie was shaking his head in pleased disbelief, and Richie pulled him close into his chest, nuzzling his face into Eddie’s hair.

“I’m proud of you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiled, relaxing completely into Richie. Later, when Richie would fall asleep, they’d talk over tea about all his feelings and fears and she’d be there listening and being supportive and being there for him the best way possible. She had always reminded Eddie that he was not a victim of assault, but a _survivor_, and he wasn't a kid who killed a man, he was a _fighter_ who protected his friends. And now she was here making sure he wasn't ashamed of who he was in love with, because he wasn't a freak and he wasn't sick; love was just _love. _Terrified of the real world as he was, he was happy and warm and always welcome in this home; here, in Richie’s arms and with Judy’s love, he had everything he could ever need. But it always worried him if he would be enough for Richie in return.

They were sitting bundled up on a bench in town, in the brisk November air and relaxing in the calm fog keeping everyone else inside. Eddie learned to love these days more than sunny ones, because he didn’t feel so many eyes on him and Richie when they were out and he could enjoy himself a little more. He took a sip of his coffee through the plastic lid, leaning back and just admiring how beautiful these dull and quiet days were. He looked over at Richie, who was looking across the street. Eddie followed Richie’s gaze and frowned.

“It’s a bit cold for a top that low-cut,” Eddie grumbled, glaring at the sophomore from their school. Richie chucked next to him.

“Don’t be such a prude, Eds,” he said, not taking his eyes off of her while taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Yeah, well, sorry I don’t have the right equipment to keep enough of your attention on me,” Eddie said, bitterness dripping from his voice before he could help himself.

“Eddie, my love,” Richie sighed, already exasperated by the conversation. “Even if you had tits, they wouldn’t be _her _tits, and I would still be looking at them because they’re fucking_ tits_ for fucks sake.” He turned toward Eddie, an eyebrow cocked. “You don’t have any interest in even looking at boobs?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t have any desire to look at them. They just feel squishy. What’s the big deal anyway? You realize they’re supposed to have a function though, right? Like, they’re for feeding babies, not for you to gawk at.”

Richie pinched the bridge of his nose above his glasses, shaking his head. “God, you’re so gay.” Eddie turned to Richie, but Richie was smiling. “I mean that in a good way. That’s what I love about you, Eds. Cause if you weren’t, I wouldn’t be getting any.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my god,” Eddie got up, already walking away in a huff. “I’m so happy my purpose in life is to get Richie Tozier’s dick wet.”

“Eddie,” Richie threw himself off the bench, jogging to catch up and sliding his arm into the crook of Eddie’s elbow. Eddie was such an old soul; he was already acting like a grumpy old queen. If Stanley was gay, they’d have a field day together. “I’m just fucking around with ya, you know you drive me fucking crazy.” He kissed Eddie’s temple, but Eddie didn’t budge, keeping his expression the same. He took a final drag from his cigarette, flicking it into a gutter. “You wanna know how fucking crazy you make me, Eddie?”

Eddie didn’t respond, but Richie picked up his pace, leading Eddie down to his street, prompting Eddie to speak. “Dude, we’ve barely been out, I don’t want to go home yet.”

“We’re going to my home, Eds. You haven’t been over since before Halloween.”

“Stop calling me Eds,” Eddie didn’t hate it when Richie called him that, but when he was annoyed, everything bothered him. “Or if you want, I’m going to start calling you Dick, like Dick as in Richard, because sometimes you are just a fucking dick – “

But Richie cut him off, wrapping his long arm around Eddie’s face and covering his mouth. Eddie pushed him off, but didn’t protest again until getting into Richie’s room. It reeked like his cigarettes.

“What the fuck, Richie? I thought you said you’d cut down once we started dating, and it smells like you’ve been lighting packs of them in here lately.”

“I know, I’ll cut down,” Richie said, sliding his arms under his bed to pull out some magazines. Eddie had taken off his scarf and jacket and hopped onto the bed when Richie threw one at him. Richie watched with amusement as Eddie picked it up and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Richie, what the actual fuck is this?” Eddie said, flipping through the porno. “Are these supposed to be dudes with tits or chicks with dicks?”

Richie crawled onto the bed with him, facing Eddie on his stomach and propping his head up on his arms. “Who knows, but their dicks put mine to shame.” Eddie looked up at him, completely bewildered. Richie grinned. “What? Dude, I’m seventeen and horny. Cut me some slack. I have no idea what my dick is thinking, you’re the only guy I’ve ever liked and you’ve got me all confused and shit. So if anything, this is your fault.”

“Do not blame your perversions on me,” Eddie said, throwing the magazine back at Richie. “I might be a queer, but I’m a simple man.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Richie said, tossing the magazine back to the floor, pushing himself up to sit and face Eddie. “The world is not black and white, Eds, and I am finding beauty in all of its colors so I don’t go blind.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed still, and he leaned back against the wall with his legs outstretched. Richie was staring at him, and Eddie didn’t like the tension. “You are right though. Their dicks do put yours to shame.” The corners of his mouth twitched a little.

“Ouch, Eds. That hurts.” It didn’t really, because even though Richie wasn’t exactly well-endowed, and even Eddie was slightly bigger than him (and neither of them were exactly rock stars down there), Richie knew that he and Eddie had been enjoying themselves all the same and neither of them needed to be Ron Jeremy to be happy. It was also pleasant being with someone who had the same equipment as you and understood what shrinkage meant and wouldn’t judge you when they were going through the same issues in puberty. However, Richie saw that Eddie was still bothered. He scooted himself against the wall with him and rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder, politely waiting, knowing Eddie would say whatever was on his mind once he was ready. Finally –

“Richie, am I ever going to be enough for you?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it hit Richie like he had shouted at him.

He lifted his head and took Eddie chin in his hands, making their eyes meet. “Listen, you little idiot. I love you. I know I don’t say it a lot and I joke and I know I’m an asshole, but I love you. You are always going to be enough. I don’t care what you’re missing or what you’ve got extra of or whatever, because I don’t want someone with a dick or someone with boobs, I just want Eddie fucking Kaspbrak.”

Eddie smiled sadly and took Richie’s hand in his. “Rich… we haven’t even had sex. I know we have plenty of time, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that. I don’t know if I ever will want to after what happened.”

“We’ve been having sex.”

Eddie shook his head. “You know what I mean. Real sex. The sex I know you’ve been expecting to have when you grew up, where you’ve got your dick in someone, and not just their mouth, but if not a vagina I know there’s someplace else you’re expecting at some point.”

“Anal sex,” Richie said, making Eddie cringe. “You can say it, Eds. But sex is still sex. Like, you know how your doctor is always like, ‘Are you sexually active?’ instead of ‘Are you fucking anyone?’ and it still makes you uncomfortable? It’s because they know it’s all sex, but we’re all stupid and we just think there’s just the one way to have sex, but if that was true every gay person and lesbian would be a virgin, and that’s just fucking not true.”

“You’re just saying that so you don’t have to tell people you _are_ a virgin, Richie.”

“Fuck that,” Richie said defiantly. “Fuck that word; we’re not using it anymore. If you want to call me a virgin, fine, tell everyone I am, but dammit Eddie we _have sex_ and it is _great sex_, and I am fucking _happy_.” He paused for a moment, enjoying how red Eddie was getting. “Although, technically, since I fucked your mother I’m not actually a virgin, so…”

Eddie laughed despite himself. “No talking about fucking my dead mother, please. Not in this conversation or any other.”

“Fine. But I’m just saying, now that I know I like dick, and I must say I’m pretty good at pleasing it, I would’ve had your dad all over me, too, if he was still kicking when I hung out there.”

“Beep fucking beep, Richie!” Eddie fell down on his back, covering his face in his hands and sighing. “Maybe we should just do it.”

“Do what?”

Eddie lowered his hands. “Fuck. Like, real fucking. Anal sex,” he said before Richie could correct him.

“Eddie, we don’t have to. How interested in it are you, really?”

He wasn’t, at all. Not only was he ashamed of being gay, but he was ashamed of being a bad gay. It was like he was broken, not fit to be properly loved or lusted by anyone the way he was supposed to. But Richie was always telling him, he wasn’t supposed to be anything. “I don’t know,” he finally said after a moment. “But, maybe I’d like it if I tried it?”

“Listen,” Richie said with an air of know-it-all about him which he usually had when he was about to talk about some bullshit thing he read in a magazine or something. “I’ve been reading.” Eddie knew it. “And it doesn’t seem like all gay dudes even have anal sex. I’m pretty sure they do for the same reason dudes that have a perfectly good vagina to fuck have anal sex; they just wanna fuck them somewhere. Or be fucked, I don’t know. But there’s not some, like, gay fucking rule book you have to follow. People just like what they like and don’t what they don’t, there aren’t any rules to any of this.”

Eddie wanted to agree with Richie, but he was also terrified of losing Richie. He was terrified of something being wrong with him. So, that’s how he found himself convincing Richie into running to the drug store and then soon after both of them were naked in Richie’s shower. Because, if he was going to be doing this, he at least needed to be near soap. Richie was already quite enjoying himself lathering Eddie up with this silky lube after soaping him down, making Eddie’s skin slick.

“How do you wanna do this?” Richie asked softly into Eddie neck, his arm wrapped around Eddie to support him, the other running up and down Eddie’s chest.

“Mmm… I guess it would be easier if I turned around, right?” He hissed slightly when Richie’s wet fingers found their way to his balls, feeling Richie grin onto his skin.

Richie straightened up to look Eddie in the eyes. “How am I going to see you? What if I’m hurting you and you’re too stupid to say anything and I can’t see it on your face?”

“I’ll tell you. It’ll just be easier,” Eddie said, not entirely sure how true his words were. He had only ever had this experience when it was forced upon him and it was horrific.

Richie reached out of the shower briefly, grabbing a condom he picked up at the store and his sisters mirror from the sink. He balanced the mirror on the shower shelf with the shampoos, angling down on them.

“Why - ?” Eddie began, slowly turning himself away from Richie.

“So I can look at you,” Richie said, putting his attention back to Eddie, kissing across his shoulders. They were tense, and Richie guided Eddie so he was getting hit more by the warm water, hoping to ease and relax him a bit. “Remember, you call the shots, OK?” He looked into the mirror to lock eyes with him. Eddie smiled; nervously, but he smiled nonetheless. Richie’s fingers were still slick, and he guided his hand down, his fingers tracing Eddie’s spine. He figured a couple fingers could help relax Eddie a little, get him ready.

Apparently he was wrong. Eddie had sprung out of that shower before Richie realized what was happening, staring down at the mirror shattered by the drain, his dick still hard and unopened condom in his hand. He went to pull the shower curtain open and saw Eddie wrapping himself in a towel around his shoulders and sitting on the toilet lid. Little shit had snuck his inhaler into the bathroom with him and he was sucking at it.

“I’m sorry, ‘Chee,” he huffed breathlessly, setting his inhaler on the sink. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“S’OK, Eds,” Richie said, awkwardly turning the shower off, stepping out into the cold, trying and failing to cover his erection because Eddie grabbed the only damn towel. “We don’t have to do it again. It was a good try.”

Eddie gave him a look that could only be read as, _Really dude_? He was calming down now and he couldn’t help but dart his eyes up and down Richie’s body. He looked up at Richie and smirked. “Turn the shower back on.”

Richie did as he was told, and as soon as he turned back around he was pleasantly surprised to find Eddie had gotten down on his knees in front of him. Richie would clean up the glass and worry about his sister later, because right now he was just very happy the sound of running water was masking all the noises Eddie was eliciting from him.

1994

Eddie fixed his bow tie in the mirror, Richie’s long arm dangling over his shoulder, a lit joint stuck out of the space between his grinning teeth. “What a fucking stud muffin,” he said before sucking in, the tip of the joint brightening as he inhaled.

“Flattery isn’t going to make me any less annoyed when we’re not allowed in prom for smelling like skunk.”

“Flattery? I was talking about myself,” he said, adjusting his collar and winking at Eddie’s reflection. “You’re hella cute, though.”

Eddie huffed, _adorably_, Richie would add. “I’m not cute.” He snatched Richie’s pot from him, taking a hit for himself. God, he hated the taste and the raw burn at the back of his throat, but he knew he’d relax a bit.

“Easy, Eds” Richie said, pulling the dying roach off of Eddie’s lips, taking one last drag before tossing it in the toilet. He flushed over the faint sound of a car honking outside. “Ben will have an aneurysm if we stink up his stupid fucking car.”

Eddie made sure to grab the disposable camera his aunt left before her night shift, peeling off the post-it that read, _Take lots of pictures, handsome!_ He grabbed his house key just before feeling himself being lifted into the air as Richie scooped him up.

“Richie, what the fuck?”

“I’m carrying you through the threshold,” Richie said, awkwardly opening the front door with the arm cradled under Eddie’s back, the other under Eddie’s knees.

“That’s for marriage, you idiot,” Eddie laughed, throwing his arm around Richie’s shoulder, enjoying the affection and excuse just to have Richie holding him before they were surrounded by their classmates.

Richie kicked the door open, both of them expecting to see three young men awaiting for them, perhaps crammed in Ben’s Ford Taurus, but instead came to confront the redheaded, freckled-face smile of –

“BEVVY!” Richie screamed, promptly _dropping_ his boyfriend, Eddie falling to a yelp and a thud on the porch. Rich ran out to Bev, smiling like a dork, arms outstretched, lifting her up in the air in a giant hug. “Holy shit, you made it!”

“Surprise!” she screamed over his shoulder, laughing as Eddie fixed his suit.

Eddie wasn’t even annoyed, but ran out to catch Beverly in another hug as Richie set her down.

“Holy shit, Bev,” he said, squeezing her tight, actually the slightest bit _taller_ than her, feeling her reaching up over his shoulder even though she was wearing fucking heels. “I can’t believe you’re here. Wasn’t your prom tonight?” he asked, stepping back to look at her.

“Change of plans,” they heard Ben, leaning out of his driver’s window with a huge grin.

“Fuck my prom,” Beverly said. “Losers stick together.”

“Fuck yes!” Richie exclaimed. He and Eddie felt like they were bursting with fucking sunshine; the lucky 7 would be together again.

“Where’s Stanley?” Eddie asked, squeezing in the back next to Bill, Richie following behind him.

“Sara picked him up,” said Bill. “M-Mike is picking up Olivia and they’re gonna meet us there.”

Bill would be going stag, partially because Richie and Eddie were posing as such, and partially because he was pretentious enough to think it made him look cool and mysterious or whatever the fuck authors were trying to be.

Beverly and Richie insisted on Beastie Boys and sharing about how fucking _done_ they were with Maine, the others in agreement, Eddie occasionally pulling Richie back down to a safe position in the back seat where he can just hold his fucking hand and force him to sit still so Eddie had a shoulder to rest his head. Beverly was twisted in her seat so she could see them properly, absolutely glowing and warm.

Richie, Eddie, and Bill just kept getting taller and less-cherub faced every time Beverly came to visit, but the fuzzy happiness she felt visiting her friends never faltered. It was strange to see them practically looking like _men, _albeit super gangly, Eddie having the audacity to grow _stubble, _and Richie’s facial features sharpening to the point he could practically cut a bitch with his jaw line. Ben kept looking at her fondly now and then while he drove to the school, giving her butterflies every time they locked eyes. His body had trimmed, his face had thinned, but they were the same wonderful eyes full of poetic beauty.

The car was full of future New Yorkers – Ben would be attending Cooper Union for architecture; Bill and Mike would be starting at Columbia, Mike for history and Bill for what Richie called a “promising career in studying your own native language you pretentious fuck,”; Beverly had joined the list of future fashion designers of America when she enrolled at Pratt Institute; Eddie would be flocking with fellow math nerds at NYU, including Stan; Richie, well, Richie would be spending weekends cracking jokes at sleazy bars and his week nights at BMCC taking occasional classes in –

“Psychology?” Beverly asked, dumbstruck. “What are you going to do with _psychology_, Richie?”

“Bev,” Richie said, affectionately taking her hand over the back of her seat. “The true art of comedy is stemmed from tragedy and the human psyche. I’m not just going to make people laugh, I’m going to _make _them laugh, and I will be a fucking god a manipulation on the stage.”

“Yeah, you’re going to be a real master psychologist taking two courses at community college,” Bill scoffed.

“Don’t mock cheap school, Bill,” Eddie chimed in to Richie’s defense. “He still needs to be my sugar daddy and pay the bills.” 

There came a point in the night when Eddie stopped caring about his classmates watching him, if they even bothered to notice, because he’d never see any of them again after July, and he couldn’t think of a better feeling than swinging around playfully with Richie to Salt n’ Pepa and Culture Beat and listening to him and Mike belting out loudly to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.”

Beverly grabbed onto Eddie to dance, pushing Richie away so she could have her turn.

“Is this the tango?” Eddie laughed, completely sure this was _not_ the right way to dance to Snoop Dog.

“Just dip me, Eddie!” she squealed, and he obliged, swinging her down and knocking his leg into someone as he held onto her.

Bill and Ben were actually dancing together with Mike and his date, Olivia, and Eddie briefly locked eyes with Richie across the gym. He was standing with Stan near the refreshments, talking to Stan through a grin as he watched Eddie and Beverly dancing. There seemed to be some silent agreement between them that they would try to knock into as many other dancers as possible while Eddie spun Beverly around with wide and exaggerated twirls. He was on cloud nine. Soon, the song was changing and he watched Stan walk out with his date, laughing as Richie had wrapped an arm around him and left a wet smooch on his cheek, pulling him into a wild dance to Coolio’s Fantastic Voyage and he couldn’t even get upset because _fuck this place_, they were finally leaving and never turning back.

When they got back to Richie’s, Eddie complained. He complained that it was freezing and that Richie always kept the temperature way too cold in his bedroom. But by the wet beads of sweat dripping down Eddie’s shoulder blades moments later, Richie happily assumed he was _not_ cold anymore.

Eddie was pressed into the bed, moaning into the sheets to muffle his voice, hips arched up so Richie could wrap his hand around to his cock, his own hard as stone and pressing against Eddie’s bare ass. Richie was momentarily breaking from nibbling on Eddie’s skin by opening a bottle of lube, tearing the plastic with his teeth, then flipping Eddie over on his back. His arms were tied up above his head, giving him no way to stop Richie was doing whatever he wanted; all part of the whole trust thing, something Eddie suggested they start trying. Richie knew exactly what was off the table and what drove Eddie crazy in that _good way_. And Eddie had asked him to go a little extra until Eddie stopped him. But he knew he wouldn’t have to.

Richie slid his hand around his own shaft, making it slick with lube, and leaned down, pushing Eddie’s legs up slightly for a good angle. He lowered his hips, briefly gripping both of them together to spread the lube between them then pushed down roughly, pressing their throbbing cocks together tightly between their hot bodies and thrusting, creating a stimulation of penetration with the friction between them. He reached his lubed hand below and slid his two fingers into Eddie’s hole with ease.

“_Rich,”_ Eddie gasped, but Richie slapped his hand over Eddie’s mouth, sure he was going to protest his own pleasure (and possibly wake Richie’s sister), forcing him to only moan into Richie’s hand.

Richie pressed his other hand down on Eddie’s to keep him still while he fingered and thrusted their dicks together. There was a small voice in his head that nagged him, telling him he shouldn’t be forcing his partner down and having his way with him, not after the kind of shit he went through as a kid. Another voice reminded him that Eddie was still 100% in control of this, able to stop it at any time with just one simple word, but he didn’t _want_ to, cause just _listen to him_ _moaning._ Richie could feel Eddie trembling under him, bucking his hips up to match Richie’s speed, wanting it as badly as Richie did. Richie fingered harder into Eddie to press into his prostate, and Eddie’s noises beneath Richie’s palm became raw and guttural. Richie slid his hand off Eddie’s mouth just in case it was too much, but Eddie threw his head back in tense preparation and sounded _animalistic_. Richie reached his hand up to fist Eddie’s hair and mouthed at Eddie’s neck in a way that forced Eddie’s voice to reach whole new octaves as he was getting close to orgasm. Richie continued to grind their bodies together and he pulled back to lock his eyes into Eddie’s. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to do this next, but he snuck his hand around Eddie’s neck, squeezing the sides tightly so he could still breathe, but the pulse was pounding desperately against Richie’s hand restricting the blood flow. He watched Eddie’s eyes widen while whispering hoarsely, “_God I fucking love you_.” Just the look on Eddie’s face alone was enough to bring Richie to his own climax, and in seconds Eddie’s body curled up into Richie, unable to reach out and grab anything, and they were both spilling wet, hot cum onto each other.

Richie used his own shirt to clean them both off before chucking the filthy shirt onto the _floor_ nowhere near the laundry basket. Richie helped undo the knots holding Eddie’s wrists, and he was rubbing them gently where the strings dug into his skin. Richie was watching him carefully as Eddie sipped the cooling tea with slightly aggressive desperation. “How are you feeling?”

Thankfully, Eddie grinned as he set his mug down, exhausted, and fell into Richie’s lips, tasting like Early Grey and blue raspberry candy. Richie reached up to stroke his face as they parted and Eddie leaned into the touch, rolling his head down into Richie’s chest.

“You’re the love of my life, Richie.”

“I love you, Eds; so, so much.”

Richie leaned back so they were lying down, stroking Eddie’s hair as they fell asleep. Richie drifted off thinking about how neither of them bothered to dress, the first of many times they’d sleep like this, a predecessor to continuing years of unflinching intimacy.

“Holy shit, Richie, how many stores do we need to go into?”

This was probably the 5th place Richie had dragged Ben into, and Ben had been so busy rambling on about his architecture program that he didn’t notice until just now that Richie had not bought a single thing, but kept hustling down candy isles like a madman and leaving each place with more and more annoyance.

Richie acted as if he hadn’t heard Ben at all, grabbing an entire box of candy and lifting it up into the air. “Excuse me?” he called to the cashier. “Do you have any more of these somewhere?”

The man looked up from a newspaper and shook his head.

“Fuck.” Richie crammed the box back onto the shelf. “Eddie only likes the blue raspberry.”

Ben gestured to the wide variety of other candies in the store. “Dude, they have like 10 different blue raspberry candies here, just get something else.”

“It has to be a ring pop,” said Richie. “Which reminds me… can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure,” said Ben.

Richie sighed, biting his bottom lip, which looked a little raw from him chewing on it already. “Do you mind if I make a grand gesture at your party tomorrow?”

Ben narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. “That depends… is it going to give my mother a heart attack?”

“No, but Eddie might have one.”

Ben stared at Richie for a moment before it clicked. “Oh. OH. OH!” He started shaking Richie’s shoulders. “Are you serious?! Of course I wouldn’t mind! Holy shit! This is amazing!”

“Easy, Haystack,” Richie laughed, shaking Ben off. “Don’t give yourself an aneurysm before you can follow our footsteps and get with Bev, already.”

Ben blushed. “Listen, I’m working on it. But it’s been about double the amount of time for you and Eddie, so don’t even compare the two.”

“Do you think it’s stupid?” Richie asked, suddenly shrinking into himself, slightly insecure. “Like, I don’t even know if we’ll be able to get married any time soon.”

“So, you’ll have plenty of time to plan a ceremony. You got to do what makes you two happy. Here,” he said, leaning down and grabbing a single blue raspberry ring pop that Richie’s bad eyesight didn’t catch. “Here’s your something blue.”

Richie beamed and grabbed the candy ring excitedly. “Finally. We just need to get a card.”

Now he was shaking, his leg jittery and bouncing up and down and wondering how his electrified nerves weren’t shaking the whole damn tree he was leaning on in Ben’s backyard. Their graduation was over, the sun was setting, the BBQ was cooling down and Mrs. Hanscom was pulling out a cake from the fridge that she had purchased the afternoon before. Mike and Eddie were talking about Speed, but Eddie insisted he couldn’t take the main guy seriously after watching Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure about 50 times with Richie.

“Gather round, boys!” Mrs. Hanscom called, closing the back door behind her with a large cake in her grip. “Time for some dessert!”

They sat around the backyard table, Mrs. Hanscom setting down the blue-frosted cake with large purple letters reading, “Congrats, Grads!”

“Here, Eddie,” said Ben, placing Eddie down in front of the cake and pulling out a card.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked.

“A little extra for being such a smart-ass,” Mike said, grinning. “Congrats little valedictorian.”

Eddie blushed. “You guys didn’t have to get me a freaking card,” he said, ripping open the envelope.

“Read it aloud,” Ben said as he sat next to Beverly and wrapped his arm around her.

“I don’t want to hear whatever raunchy shit Richie wrote in there after us,” Stan said. “I know that’s why he signed it last.”

“You should read it anyway,” Ben said.

Richie made his way over to them, keeping quiet and standing just a bit behind Eddie, feeling his heart pounding aggressively through his chest.

“_We’re so proud of you, honey_,’” Eddie was reading, his ears now reddening with embarrassment as badly as his cheeks. “_You’re gonna knock college out of the park; Can’t wait to see where it takes you. Love you always._ Thanks Bev,” he smiled at her. He read on similar words of congratulations and pride, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “_I’m still smarter than you._ Fuck you, Stan.”

“I have to keep your ego in check,” Stan replied, smirking.

“_Eddie, _oh god,” Eddie continued. It was Richie’s handwriting, and he had written Eddie instead of Eds, which always made him nervous. “_I know I’m not the best with this serious stuff, but I wanted you to know how damn proud I am to have someone as clever and smart as you love me,” _Eddie could feel his eyes stinging with stupid, hopelessly romantic tears and he wanted to punch Richie for causing this reaction in front of their friends. “_You’re going to do amazing things, and I want to make this promise that I will always be by your side and follow you wherever you go. You’re everything to me, but there’s one more thing I want us to be; as long as you say yes.” _Eddie blinked in confusion. “Wait, what?”

He looked up to see the faces of the Losers and Ben’s mom looking awestruck, Beverly and Ben with joyful tears in their eyes, Ben’s suspiciously unsurprised, but all eyes were looking past Eddie toward the ground behind him. He turned and looked down to see Richie, looking scared and desperate and _in love_, down on his knee and holding a giant blue candy ring.

“Eds,” said Richie. “Will you – ARGH!”

Eddie had tackled him before he could finish, smothering him with a love-sick stupid sloppy kiss, Richie laughing blissfully into his lips.

“Of course I will, you fucking idiot!” Eddie squealed, holding Richie’s face in his hands, planting more kisses on him.

“Somebody stop them before I have to bleach my eyes,” Stan was saying from the table, but for once with an adoring kind of look on his face as Bill and Mike started whooping next to him.

Beverly was crying, clutching Ben’s arm with such warmth in her eyes, and Ben turned to his mother, about to fervently apologize to his mother for not warning or explaining the true nature of Eddie and Richie’s relationship beforehand, but she was laughing, and when she caught Ben’s eyes, she smiled and mouthed, “I fucking _knew _it!”

“This is perfect, isn’t it?”

“No, Richie, this is a shithole.”

Eddie and Richie stood looking around their small studio apartment in the lower eastside of Manhattan on Delancey Street, halfway through unpacking and organizing. It was a shithole, but it was all theirs and they could afford it thanks to the New York Housing Authority. It was cleanish, but cold and all brick and cement. Richie could physically feel Eddie counting all the diseases they could get living here.

“Eddie, my love,” said Richie, now eighteen and towering over his fiancé by a head and was still lanky and awkward as he threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “This is _our_ place. We don’t have to hide anywhere or make sure my radio is loud enough so my sister can’t hear you screaming my name in our bed. And it’s New York. I’m sure half the city is gay.”

“That’s statistically improbable, Richie,” said Eddie, but he rested his head on Richie’s bony shoulders. Being five-foot-six was shitty in the world, but he loved feeling small and swallowed by Richie’s presence; it made him feel so secure. “I think most gay couples live in Greenwich, anyway. We can’t afford Greenwich.”

Richie gave him a big, wet kiss on the cheek. “Baby, if you want a place in Greenwich, God as my witness, I will get you a place in Greenwich. You deserve the world.”

“Yeah, I’m sure a comedian’s salary will get us there in no-time.” Eddie made his way to their mattress so he could place a protective cover on it. “I’ll have to start looking for a new therapist tomorrow,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Richie tsked. “Yee of little faith. I’ve already got auditions at Broadway Comedy Club set up. You’re literally going to NYU to get a Boring B.S. That’s Boring Bull Shit degree, Eds.”

“Mathematics isn’t boring when you know how to calculate and analyze, Rich.” He glared at Richie, who had started to pretend to snore. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit. Just get me through college and I’ll get us a nice place once I start working a real job in… four years,” he sighed, not looking forward to the struggle of a broke orphan in New York City making his way through college with his gay lover.

“You flatter me, Eds.” Richie grinned. “I’m the luckiest hubby in the world. But you know, you’re older than me, shouldn’t you be working to take care of me?”

“I am literally five months older than you, Richie. It’s not exactly sugar daddy status.” Eddie frowned, pausing as he leaned forward and pressed his hands on the mattress. “It’s not going to be real, you know. We’re partners, not husbands. Just because we’re not in Derry, doesn’t mean it’s still not going to be shitty.” Eddie felt guilty again. When they had graduated, Richie had actually gotten down on one knee for him. All he had was a candy ring pop, and he asked Ben if it would be OK to do it at the graduation party he was hosting. Ben, the hopeless romantic, thought it was absolutely adorable. But Eddie didn’t know what they could or could not do in their lifetime, and wished he could be content with calling Richie his fiancé for the rest of their lives. He would’ve married him on the spot if he could’ve. Yet, there they were, trapped in the in-between of boyfriends and husbands, no longer just dating, but not able to declare themselves as soul mates to the world the way they wanted to. Neither of them needed it validated by a piece of paper, but the fact that they weren’t even allowed crushed Eddie. At least, Eddie had thought, fiancé was gender-neutral enough that they could casually mention each other to strangers they weren’t ready to open up to yet.

Richie could feel the weight Eddie was putting on his shoulders and walked over to him. He lay down in the unmade bed and pulled Eddie down with him. Richie rested on his back and pulled Eddie into his chest. “Eddie, for someone smart enough to get a scholarship into NYU’s Boring B.S. program, you’re awfully stupid to not realize how real this is. I love you, you fucking idiot.”

Eddie’s arm was wrapped around Richie and squeezed him a little. “Is that going to be enough for you?”

Richie was shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve always been enough, Eds. Even by your definition of things, I am happy to die an old, unmarried man with the love of my life.”

Richie smiled when he felt Eddie laugh. “I love you,” he heard him say. “I’m just… I’m sorry I can’t be more than this.”

“Jesus Christ, would you stop apologizing for stupid shit.” He reached down and lifted Eddie’s chin up to look at him. “You. Are. Enough. You always have been. You always will be. And dammit, Eddie, I’m _happy_, just so fucking happy to be with you. I can’t wait to be old and boring and rich in some queer fancy apartment in Greenwich with you. Cause whatever you want, you’re gonna get because you deserve it. We deserve it.”

Eddie could feel his eyes watering looking at Richie, his heart swelling with so much love he couldn’t form a proper response to say. He leaned forward and kissed him, and suddenly the realization of what Richie said before, that they could be as loud as they wanted, really hit. Eddie took a quick glance at Richie, gliding his hand to cup him. Richie grinned ear to ear.

“Putting you in the mood, am I?”

“No more talking,” Eddie said pulling his shirt off. Richie grabbed Eddie around the waist and flipped him onto his back so he could kiss a trail down Eddie’s torso, making his way down as he undid Eddie’s pants. “Why aren’t you getting naked?” Eddie demanded, reaching down to pull Richie’s shirt over his head. Richie continued to keep his attention downward, tugging down Eddie’s underpants and kissing his inner thigh. “Come up here.”

Richie looked up, crawling up to hover over his lover, Eddie’s wide brown eyes and freckles being the absolutely most beautiful thing Richie has ever seen. “I’m here.”

“I want to look at you,” said Eddie. “I just want to be as close to you as possible.” Richie smiled at him and kissed him with white-hot passion, using one of his hands to undo his belt. Eddie helped as Richie pulled them down, kissing Eddie to keep his attention on him (“Let’s face it, there’s just no sexy way to get jeans off,” Eddie was always saying).

The two continued to writhe together, alternating between fondling and frottage, and the small amount of fingering that Eddie had slowly allowed himself to enjoy, slowing down and picking up at all the right times so they came together. Both moaned into each other, Richie biting down on Eddie’s lip with his fingers pressing deep into Eddie below, while Eddie pulled at his hair and kept his hand wrapped around both of their cocks and whispered some explicit language. Richie cleaned them off as quickly as he could so he could curl Eddie back into his arms and hold him close.

“I’m still a little sticky,” Eddie mumbled, but rested his head on Richie’s chest nonetheless.

“Just leave it alone. Maybe it’ll get you all hot and bothered again when you feel it on you in the morning. I give you full permission to take care of my morning wood.”

“Mmm,” was all of Eddie’s response, as he was finally feeling the true comfort of being alone with Richie. This apartment was small and shitty, but it was theirs, and they could be whatever they wanted in here together.

2016

Eddie Kaspbrak’s heart was warm as he watched one of his best friends dancing with his spouse for the first time. He was ready to flash Mike a smile if he caught his eye, but Eddie knew the feeling too well and knew that Mike’s eyes were locked on his lover, Nel. Yeah, Richie’s sibling. Kind of gross, wasn’t it? Richie certainly kept saying so until he wept like a little bitch during the ceremony.

Eddie sat at the table reserved only for the closest of Mike’s friends. Bill was to his left, holding his wife, Audra’s hand, both looking fondly at the newlyweds. Beverly and Ben were both looking at each other, likely in silent reminiscing over their own wedding. Then, Stanley and his wife Patricia, watching the bride and groom like all the others. Eddie turned to look at his husband, Richie, who was already looking at him with a soft smile. Richie lifted Eddie’s hand to his face and kissed it. Some people say that their soul mates can still ignite butterflies after decades together, but this was not the case for them. Eddie always had so much anxiety; the butterflies were always in his stomach. It was when he was with Richie that they finally calmed down and just fill him with warmth.

“Care to dance, handsome?” Richie said, standing up, tall and lanky as ever.

Slowly, couples and singles alike made their ways to the dance floor, and Eddie didn’t mean to be pretentious, but he was pretty sure he and Richie were the best ones of them all. He’d let Mike and Nel have their night, but no one could match the Derry high school sweethearts. It wasn’t fair that they had to wait almost 20 years to get married, but on July 23rd, 2011, Stanley the Manly Uris booked a flight to New York and told Richie and Eddie he didn’t give a fuck that they weren’t Jewish, he was gonna marry the shit out of them (“What’s the catch?” Richie asked. “Do I have to suck your dick? Cause I gotta tell ya, I’ve only got experience with uncut,” he had said to both Stanley and Eddie’s horror). They had a wonderful, small ceremony upstate and consummated the marriage in a way Eddie never thought he'd be able to years ago, filled with bliss and joy making love to his _husband_. God, he loved that word.

They didn’t really know if they wanted kids at that time, Eddie and Richie both communicating that they would “fuck a kid up royally” if they ever adopted one. They had spent their days in their beautiful Greenwich Village home with their stupid Pomeranian (“This is definitely the gayest dog they have here, we have to have him. I can’t see you playing with a bulldog,” Richie had said happily playing with him in the shelter). It wasn’t until Eddie’s aunt passed away in 2013 that he thought about how lost he would’ve been without her, her support after his mother passed away and after he had come out to her his junior year by accidentally shouting it at her. Soon after that, Eddie and Richie started fostering Christina, a small girl from Venezuela, a tiny chaotic light that turned quiet nights into small adventures, and Eddie was pleased there was someone else Richie can do his stupid voices for (which, admittedly, were pretty good now.) The adoption was finalized just a year ago, the summer of 2015, just after she turned 5.

Loving Richie was like breathing, and Eddie hadn’t picked up his inhaler in nearly two decades. Anytime he felt he needed it, he just grabbed onto Richie instead, and that was enough. Richie was like a kite tethered to Eddie’s wrist; Eddie kept Richie grounded, but Richie kept Eddie from slamming to the ground. Even after all this time, their joy to spend time together never wavered. They continued their banter, fought playfully, and still acted like the same goofy teenagers in love they had been 24 years ago.

Christina came running over, lifting her arms up at her father’s. “Daddy! Papa!” She squealed. “Dance with me!”

“Sure thing little lady,” said Richie; Papa to her. He scooped her up, letting her hang an arm over his shoulder, her other over Eddie’s, their arms wrapped around her to hold her up, the others holding each other’s hands. They swayed together like this, and it was just a snapshot of how wonderful life had become. Surrounded by the best friends they had had in their whole lives, embracing love and life, letting their love for each other triumph over all their fears and anxieties. Eddie beamed at his daughter and husband, enjoying this moment so much, yet delighted all the same at the idea of going back to their warm home full of happy pictures and books and games and fireplaces and baths and movie nights. He leaned in and kissed Richie and Richie knew exactly what Eddie was feeling in this moment as they stared wordlessly and smiling. Eddie was welcome, Eddie was safe, Eddie was not haunted by the traumas of his past, and Eddie was loved, whole and unbroken. He was happy; truly, absolutely, and wholeheartedly… he was happy.


End file.
